Salvation [Kylo Ren Mafia AU]

Fair and Square

**Trigger warning: Flashback of assaults.**

The next forty-eight hours are filled with Kylo waking for roughly ten minutes before falling asleep for the next four hours. It is completely draining waiting for him to come to and be able to breath on his own. Watching the panic in his eyes flare to life as he remembers everything when he awakes as if he relives that night every time he opens his eyes only to succumb to pure exhaustion. Phasma finally replaced his oxygen mask with a nasal cannula and he is officially down to three iv's. Every day, more color blooms on his skin despite his facial hair growing longer than I have seen it in some time and his cheeks hollowing from the lack of food, despite everyone's efforts to feed him. It's small but his improvements increase every day. Today is a somewhat good day for Kylo.

"Ready for his bandage change?" Phasma asks as she wheels over a sterile tray with all of the necessary supplies.

Kylo moves in bed to sit up as he growls with irritation, "Don't speak as if I am not in the room."

I nod, ignoring his remark before washing my hands, "Will it have to be changed twice a day for the rest of the week?" I dry them thoroughly before slipping on the blue latex gloves to keep the massive wound clean as possible. This isn't my first time but I still get nervous with her watching and it being such a nasty gash being held together with tiny sutures.

Her smile is gentle as she stands next to me, watching my every move, "I'll be able to judge it better once you remove the old dressing." Phasma helps Kylo slide his shirt up, his gaze not meeting ours.

Chewing on my lip, I slowly peel back the medical tape from the edges of the sterile pads covering the wound. It is still extremely red and swollen but Phasma said that is to be expected. Nobody gets shot a foot away from the barrel of a gun and walks away with a clean scab. I remain mindful of keeping my hands clean as possible as I drop the dirty bandages in the biohazard bin. My stomach tightens as the serous drainage oozes from the stitches that bind the severed skin together.

Phasma adjusts the overhead light to inspect the wound, "Looks fine. I would suggest twice a day at the very least for the rest of the week. The following week we will probably discontinue the sterile ointment with fewer changes allowing it to begin hardening and scarring over."

I nod and take a sterile swab coated in medicated ointment against the inflamed skin. Kylo sits up in bed, his eyes watching my movements with an intensity that would make a neurosurgeon tremble.

"Stop judging me," I hiss out as my eyes dart up to meet his gaze before dropping back down to his stomach. My hands strain to be as gentle as possible.

His voice is flat as he continues to stare, "I'm not judging you."

I chew my lower lip as I switch out the cotton swab for a fresh one to apply a second coat, "Then stare at the ceiling or something."

"But then I couldn't judge you," the corner of his lip quirks up for a millisecond and I can't hide the smile that grows on my face in response. I roll my eyes with a small laugh as I pick up the bandage, undoing the packaging.

This is the first time he has had a ghost of a smile on his lips. He has been quiet, non-combative and tense. It bothers me that he is not the Kylo I know, aware that this has affected him more than he leads on. Jesus, the man died along with his brother. Knowing Kylo, his pride and ego hurts as bad as the twelve stitches pinching his abdomen closed as well as the internal abdominal wall. I try to put myself in his shoes and I know I wouldn't be happy.

Phasma adjusts the light and makes sure I do not touch the cotton before I lay it flat against his wound. "Shift it to the left, just a centimeter." I listen and shift it just a smidge, not noticing a difference but she hums in approval, "Good. We are going to let the lower portion of his stitches breathe today since it is healing the fastest. Test out a small sample with the least amount of damaged skin."